Months later…
My parents had changed. Subtly at first, then undeniably. They whispered behind closed doors, exchanged sharp glances, and their smiles never reached their eyes. They had become controlling, secretive, as if guarding some hidden plan from me.
And then came the engagement.
Park Jihoon. A CEO with cold, calculating eyes, greedy and sharp. My parents insisted he was perfect for me—wealth, influence, connections—but I didn't care. I didn't love him. I didn't want to marry him. But my heart twisted in quiet resignation. I loved my parents, and I had always respected their choices, no matter how much it cost me.
The wedding day arrived.
I stood in front of the mirror, the ivory gown draped over my slender frame like liquid moonlight. The soft fabric flowed around me, delicate embroidery catching the light with every subtle movement. My reflection looked ethereal, almost unreal—like a painting come to life.
Light brushed my cheeks, highlighting slightly high cheekbones, catching a subtle golden glow. My almond-shaped eyes held calm intensity, drawing in anyone who dared to meet them. My lips, soft and full, curved gently, the tender cupid's bow adding an unspoken sweetness. My neck, slender and graceful, glimmered with a thin chain of gold, and my jawline carried the soft elegance that only whispered poetry could capture.
The jewels in my hair sparkled faintly, scattered like stars against my dark hair. I could barely recognize myself. For one fleeting moment, I felt like the bride my parents wanted the world to see—a vision of grace, elegance, and perfection.
Yet, beneath the ivory perfection, my heart was buried in black.
"Girl, you look… stunning," my mother said, her voice tinged with an unfamiliar stiffness. Too many rehearsed words. Too forced. My father's nod carried an edge, a tension I couldn't place.
I swallowed hard. Something about their smiles felt hollow, as if they were playing a role I didn't understand.
Guests arrived, chatter filling the hall, the sound of polished shoes on marble floors echoing through the grand space. My hands trembled slightly as I adjusted my veil, each step toward the altar heavier than the last.
And then… it happened.
The double doors at the end of the hall burst open with a violent crash. The sudden noise made every conversation die mid-word. A hush fell like a shroud, broken only by gasps and the faint echo of metallic clinks—someone—or something—was here.
I froze, heart hammering. Every instinct screamed to turn, to run, but my legs refused to move.
And then he stepped in.
Dressed in black, every line of his body sharp and commanding. Armed men flanked him, disciplined and silent, like shadows born of night itself. But it wasn't them who drew my attention—it was him.
He stopped at the threshold, and for a moment… he didn't move. He didn't speak. He just looked. And as he looked, the world seemed to slow, silence swallowing everything else.
His eyes found mine.
"…"
Time stilled. The music, the whispers, the gasps of the guests—all faded beneath the weight of his gaze. His lips parted slightly, almost as if the sight of me had stolen his breath.
From his perspective, the chaos of the wedding hall melted into nothing. All he saw was me: draped in ivory, radiant, ethereal. My skin glowed with soft golden undertones, my eyes calm yet fierce, my lips a tender promise. Every detail—every curve, every shimmer, every delicate gesture—etched itself into his mind.
Damn… he thought, his pulse catching. She… she's… impossible.
A hush swept the hall. Guests whispered, unsure whether to flee or watch. My father stiffened. My mother's hand trembled as she clutched her fan. The groom froze, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing as though words could not form.
And still… he didn't move. He just admired me, as if memorizing every inch, every detail.
Then came the gunshots.
Chaos erupted. Screams tore through the air. Crystal chandeliers shook with the vibrations. Guests dove for cover, children screamed, and the sound of shoes skidding across polished marble filled the hall.
And yet… he was calm. A storm in human form, commanding the room without a single spoken word. His men moved like extensions of him, weapons raised, eyes scanning for threats.
"Should I shoot you too, precious?" His voice cut through the panic, smooth, deliberate, and cold.
My body stiffened. I couldn't breathe. I barely processed the words before my knees weakened. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to hide, to escape, but my eyes couldn't leave him.
He stepped forward, slow and deliberate. His black suit clinging to his form like armor, the faint gleam of metal at his belt catching the light. Every movement was calculated, precise, terrifyingly elegant.
"You.. …" I whispered, voice trembling. "What… what is happening?!"
He ignored the question, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Look at you," he said softly, almost to himself, voice low and reverent. "Even now… in this… ridiculous farce… you are breathtaking."
My cheeks burned. Fear, confusion, and a strange heat of awareness twisted through me.
"Who—who are you?" Jihoon stammered, stepping forward, though his knees shook.
"Someone you should never have crossed," Taehyung said, voice now sharp, deadly. "Someone who won't let anyone touch what is mine."
He moved closer. The hall seemed to shrink around him. Every guest froze, every eye drawn to him, every breath caught in the tension.
I swallowed hard. My fingers gripped the lace of my dress. My heart raced so violently I was sure it would escape my chest.
And then… he stopped.
A hand half-raised, a subtle pause. He wasn't advancing yet. He was savoring the sight of me, the way the soft light caught my skin, the curve of my lips, the elegance of my posture.
Damn… he thought again. I could stay here forever. Just looking at her. She doesn't know… she's mine.
"Precious," he murmured, gaze still locked on mine. "You are mine. And anyone who dares touch you will regret it. Understand?"
A deafening crack echoed through the hall. Screams filled the air. I froze. I didn't know if it was meant for me… or him…
Gunshots
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